Green Apples
by starah
Summary: As someone very important to Daria falls into coma, she recovers each and every memory... and is forced to make a choice.
1. Prologue

  


Green Apples : A Prologue

  
  
  
  
_   
  
The moment she answered the phone, Daria's eardrums were nearly blasted apart with a huge sneeze from the other end of the phone.  
  
Groggy from having just woken up, her eyes squinted at the glowing digits of her alarm clock. She scowled to see the glowing green digits 03:02 sharpen and focus, and so rubbing her eyes, Daria tiredly mumbled something incoherent into the mouthpiece.  
  
A few seconds later, however, Daria's tired eyes were wide and awake, her jaw dropped open in shock with her hand groping desperately for her glasses as she listened.  
  
Five minutes later, a hastily dressed Daria slammed on the accelerator and zoomed away from her home, the tyres squealing on the gravel as she headed for the hospital as fast as she could.  
  
As soon as the brunette entered the hospital she ran - a rare thing for Daria Morgendorffer - towards the elevator. A minute later, when nothing happened, Daria was pounding up the stairs.  
  
She caught her breath on the fourth landing, and stepping onto the floor, she nervously cast her eyes on the number plates on every door. She passed 420, 419, 418... and continued around the corner for 412.  
  
Sitting outside 412, Daria saw Jane looking lost in space as she sat quietly on the plastic chair. Hearing Daria's Docs on the floor, however, Jane looked up. Daria was still breathing a little faster than usual.  
  
Jane tried to crack a smile, but failed miserably. Her lips made itself into a weak and shaky line. Standing up, she walked towards Daria, but stopped before the door of 412. Taking a breath that was as unstable as her expression, Jane opened the door. It opened almost too smoothly and quickly for Daria, and seeing what was inside, Daria gave an unstoppable, horrified gasp in response.  
  
Jane's expression was unreadable. Feeling slightly awkward, Daria reached over and set a hand onto Jane's shoulder. Daria saw Jane bite her lip - hard - and gripped the ends of Daria's green jacket so tightly they trembled. As Jane pressed her forehead to Daria's shoulder, still refusing to cry, Daria couldn't tear her eyes away from the room.  
  
Lying down within the starched sheets was a deathly white and barely breathing young man. He was covered in so many tubes and bits of plaster it was almost impossible to tell who he was.  
  
Almost.  
  
Because just barely visible between the multitudes of tubes, Daria could see his arm. And she could see the slightly faded but unmistakeable tribal patterns tattooed just above the elbow.  
  
  
  
  
  
The morning after, Daria had come home and shut the door to her room - and locked it. Her parents tried to console her out of her room, but Quinn could be heard chasing them away from lurking around her door. Daria was extremely grateful to her sister, and made a mental note to thank her later.  
  
So much had happened since graduation. It wasn't college yet, which Daria thanked God for. She didn't know how she'd do in her studies if he'd gone into a coma during college.  
  
So as she lay face-down in her pillow, Daria couldn't do anything but think.  
  
And as she thought, she remembered.  
  
  
  
  
_

End Cheesy Prologue

  
  



	2. Daria I

Munching on a slice of pizza as she pencilled into her notebook detailed descriptions for Model United Nations' coming debate, Daria felt the ringing of the phone was a welcome distraction. Jane *had* said she'd call around six. Scooping up the reciever, Daria said through a mouthful of bread, cheese and pepperoni,  
  
"Hello, Morgendorffers'. If you're the undertaker, leave her body by the door - your money's in the mailbox."  
  
She waited for Jane to snort and give her own reply, or at least a stunned silence from anyone else at which she could have a good snicker over. Instead, a very familar chuckle sounded. Nearly choking on her pizza, Daria found herself sitting more upright.  
  
"Undertaker, huh,"  
  
The voice mused.  
  
"Trent?"  
  
"What if I hadn't been?"  
  
"Sorry... I was so sure it was Jane."  
  
"Well, it is, sort of. Janey's got her hands full, so I'm calling for her. She wants you over for dinner and a movie."  
  
"What is for dinner?"  
  
"Uh... some sort of pasta. I don't really know."  
  
"You're *making* it?"  
  
"Well, that's the thing. It might help if you come a bit quicker, Daria - she's not... the best at cooking."  
  
Daria thought she heard a muffled shout at the other end that sounded an awful lot like Jane.  
  
"Uhm, been nice talking to you, come on over,"  
  
He said hurriedly, and the call ended with an abrupt click.  
  
She was picking up her overcoat when the phone rang again. Rolling her eyes, Daria reached over and picked up.  
  
"Is it Jane this time?"  
  
She asked.  
  
"Actually, no."  
  
Said yet another masculine and familiar voice,  
  
"It's Tom."  
  
Daria's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't called since they had broken up.  
  
"T-Tom?"  
  
She mentally slapped herself for stuttering. Why was she stuttering? Then again, she *had* spent the past week sinking into depression since their last conversation outside her home...  
  
"Yeah."  
  
There was a pause, and Daria got the impression Tom was feeling just as strangely awkward as she was feeling. She didn't know why they felt awkward... perhaps because their last phone conversation had been about a date. A cancelled date.  
  
Hadn't they promised to keep in contact? How were they going to go through contact if it was going to be like this? Their last meeting hadn't been awkward at all. Perhaps it was the lack of contact inbetween...  
  
"Uhh, you called for a reason?"  
  
She prompted.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Uh... Daria, I'm sorry. I don't feel... very prepared? I guess I'll call tomorrow."  
  
"It's not important?"  
  
Daria asked, failing to keep the tone of hope out of her voice. Just in case it was. Just in case he had something to tell her, so they could keep the conversation going.  
  
"Uhh... it can... wait."  
  
"Well... I'm going to Jane's for dinner. I guess we couldn't've talked anyways."  
  
Daria said lamely, and wondered why she was making excuses.  
  
"Yeah... talk to you tomorrow."  
  
Tom said, his voice equally as unsure. There was a pause. Daria didn't hang up, wanting to hear Tom hang up first, but was met with a silence.  
  
What was happening? It sounded as if Tom wanted to say something important... Probably, something about their relationship. Something that might change their current, slightly unstable friendship status.  
  
'It's not going to work out,'  
  
Daria thought, her brows creasing,  
  
'He knows that. I know he knows that... But then again, he was pretty reluctant when we broke up. I mean, even *I* didn't *really* want to break up... But we had no choice. Does he want me to tell him? Perhaps I should tell him right now, before things get out of hand. Before...'  
  
Tom's hesitant voice broke into her train of thoughts, startling her.  
  
"Daria?"  
  
Biting her lip, Daria slammed the reciever down.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Daria shook her head, remembering that time. That was when her emotions had been a true cocktail of confusion. She wondered briefly where Tom was, and knew she had to call him later and tell him about... Trent.  
  
As the rest of the day played out in Daria's mind, she was reminded of something that had only confused her further.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Daria stood before the Lane's front door, arching an eyebrow at the chaos she could hear reigning inside. She had rung the doorbell, but obviously, no one had heard. But she had no problem hearing them.  
  
"Just KILL the damn THING, Trent!!"  
  
"I'm trying. It keeps moving. It's difficult--"  
  
There was a crash, and Jane could be heard yelping. The noises sounded a little closer to Daria.  
  
"If you can't do it, give the newspaper to ME."  
  
"Hang on, Janey, I've got it. I've got it. I've--"  
  
There was a loud *thwack*, but it sounded strangely muffled. Daria discovered the door was unlocked, and took the liberty to let herself in. They weren't in the living room, so she padded towards the kitchen quietly.  
  
"TRENT!!! Look at what you did!!"  
  
"Uhh, no problemo, if we clear it up quick, the sauce won't stain..."  
  
"I don't think that's the problem. What the hell are we gonna feed Daria now? Spaghetti-served-with-half-the-tomato-sauce-it's-meant-to-have, a la squashed roach?"  
  
Daria's expression was highly amused as she paused just before the kitchen opening. She couldn't see what was going on inside, though, and she heard Trent laugh before coughing. Another *thwack* sounded, but it was rather loud this time.  
  
"...Ow."  
  
"It was MEANT to hurt. We gotta clear this up before she comes! She'll be coming any minute now."  
  
Daria debated with herself whether to go in or not, and decided with a bit of smirk that not entering would be too much of a waste. She casually walked into the kitchen with a nonchalant expression, and surveyed the scene with interest.  
  
The table had been set, but was currently in a disarray of cutlery and napkins. The center held a steaming dish of spaghetti, but smack bang in the middle lay a twitching cockroach half the size of Daria's hand. Bits of mushrooms, carrots and parmesan cheese with large dollops of tomato-sauce splattered the table-top and some of the floor, and the spaghetti looked anything but appetizing.  
  
Jane had on a yellow apron over her usual red-and-black attire, but it was spattered with splotches of the thick red sauce. Her face wasn't much better off, and her cerulean eyes widened amidst flecks of the sauce, hands covered in thick oven-mitts reaching over in an attempt to cover the mess. Trent was in the process of trying to look for a cloth to wipe up the mess, and wasn't aware of Daria's entrance.  
  
She had to smile.  
  
"So... I guess we won't be having spaghetti today?"  
  
Jane's embarrassed and surprised expression promptly dropped into a scowl.  
  
"...I hate you."  
  
She said, her arms falling to her sides as she gave up attempting to block the view. Trent turned, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he held up a dishcloth. Daria could see tomato-sauce smudged on his shirt and his nose.  
  
"Oh. Hi, Daria. When did you come in?"  
  
"A while ago. I could hear you guys making up quite a cacophony as I waited for one of you to hear the doorbell. Luckily, the door was open, so I wasn't abandoned for too long."  
  
Starting to wipe the table, Trent looked apologetically at Daria.  
  
"Sorry about that. There was this bug --"  
  
"You mean that huge cockroach bathing in the spaghetti now?"  
  
Jane wrinkled her nose as she pulled the apron off herself.  
  
"Thanks, Daria. I don't think I want to attempt another spaghetti fiasco now."  
  
"That's okay. Neither do I."  
  
"Then... what do we eat for dinner now?"  
  
Trent asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Pizza?"  
  
Daria suggested. Jane sighed.  
  
"Damn it. I was getting sick of pizza."  
  
"Let's drive out for dinner,"  
  
Trent said, wiping up the mess from the floor as he spoke,  
  
"We'll go to that new restaurant, or something. That Mexican one in the mall."  
  
"Tacos?"  
  
Jane looked like she was considering the suggestion, then nodded in approval.  
  
"Tacos it is. Daria?"  
  
"I don't mind."  
  
There was a short pause before Jane raised an eyebrow in Trent's direction.  
  
"You want me to pay for it, doncha."  
  
"We're not getting paid 'till next Tuesday."  
  
Trent replied. Jane sighed.  
  
"I'll pay this time, but you buy all the pizza next week. Let me go get my money."  
  
She turned to leave, but Trent suddenly removed his shirt in a smooth motion as he called out,  
  
"Hang on, Janey - toss this into the laundry for me and get me a new shirt."  
  
He had a vest on underneath, and Daria felt relieved. No matter who it was, Daria was just not used to seeing skin too close-up. Rolling her eyes, Jane took the offered shirt and draped it over the apron on her arm. As she started to leave the kitchen she said sarcastically,  
  
"Yes, master Trent."  
  
Before Daria could walk with her, Jane was gone. Trent set about to clear up the spaghetti, and Daria decided to help out rather than ditch him. He made a face as he tossed the roach and spaghetti into a plastic bag.  
  
"Why on earth did you smack the bug while it was in the spaghetti?"  
  
Daria asked as she watched him toss the tomato-sauce stained newspaper join the spoiled pasta. He shrugged.  
  
"I don't know. Lack of common sense and the fact it was just sitting there, I guess."  
  
As she stuck cutlery into the drawers, Daria noticed the tomato-sauce still smudged on Trent's nose.  
  
"Hey. You've got tomato-sauce on your nose."  
  
He blinked, and brought a thumb up to rub the wrong side of his nose.  
  
"No, the other side."  
  
He tried rubbing the other side, but he still couldn't get at it.  
  
"No, a little higher..."  
  
"Here?"  
  
"Not on the bridge of your nose, a little lower - no, more to the left... no, *your* left--"  
  
She let out a groan of frustration as he confusedly rubbed at the tip of his nose with the back of his wrist.  
  
"Huh? Where? Point it out to me."  
  
Daria stepped over to him, and reached a hand up. Taking her thumb, she set it at the left of his nose, and in a swift motion swiped the smear of tomato-sauce off.  
  
Then it happened.  
  
Trent blinked, and his nose twitched. Then he gave a lop-sided grin as he said,  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Daria was stunned.  
  
What was going on? She felt like she couldn't really speak, as though something weird was caught in her throat. She stood staring at Trent for a few seconds, her mouth open as confusion raced through her head. Then, the horrifying truth of her thoughts caught up to her.  
  
*He had just looked unbearably CUTE.*  
  
She hurriedly turned away, mumbling something like 'you're welcome' as she grabbed at the napkins on the table. A hot flush filled her cheeks, and blushing furiously, Daria tried to think of totally unrelated thoughts. The memory of the roach helped, and she was soon calm enough to throw the sauce-stained napkins into the plastic bag an oblivious Trent held out without blushing.  
  
Where did that come from? I mean, the hell, Daria, she told herself annoyedly, you're still confused and stressed over Tom. You're not completely over him yet. Why the hell are you thinking about how cute Trent is?! You're supposed to be *way* over *him*...  
  
She spent the evening, however, avoiding looking at Trent and talked to Jane incessantly over their tacos.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
[[A/N: Let's see here, now. What do we have here? Is it another typical Tom/Trent/Daria triangle thing? Will it contain corny cliched scenes of hospital beds and confessions of love? Will Daria have to make a choice between Tom and Trent? Will this have Tom or Trent acting totally out of character and become either Mr. Wonderful and Right or Bigass Jerks?  
  
Answer those questions yourself based on the writing so far and that fact that I DO NOT HATE TOM, and also, I DO NOT HATE TRENT. I'm only setting the scene here...  
  
By the way, for *anyone* wondering... no, this doesn't join from ol' 'Distracted'. This goes into more 'development'.]] 


	3. Daria II

She had to groan embarrassedly into her pillow as she remembered it all. It had confused her greatly, and she had spent a lot of the same evening watching Sick Sad World reruns with Jane and purposefully focusing completely on exploding cows and wax instruments as a sort of diversion from those thoughts.  
  
What was I afraid of? Daria mused to herself as she pondered this question, and as she did, the events of the following day crept into her mind.  
  
  
  
  
  
Tom was already sitting in a booth by the time Daria arrived. She settled down across him with a slice of pizza.  
  
"I didn't know I'd be late,"  
  
She said apologetically. He waved his hand about, and smiled.  
  
"It doesn't matter. I came early."  
  
She bit into her slice as she waited for him to say something. Tom looked deep in thought as he sipped his soda, and after a few seconds of silence, he spoke.  
  
"Uhm. You know, Daria... I was thinking about us."  
  
Daria sturdied herself. She had to be completely blunt because she knew it because if she wasn't firm now, the pain later on could be much worse.  
  
"You know, so was I,"  
  
She said as casually as she could. His eyebrows raised.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah. And I was thinking... staying as friends is too difficult."  
  
His eyes brightened.  
  
"Exactly!"  
  
He said, his voice dancing on delight, when Daria cut in,  
  
"We should probably not meet each other at all."  
  
His delight immediately fell into shock. She toyed with the straw in her glass, refusing to meet his eyes.  
  
"It's for the best. I mean, we like each other and all, but look how awkward it's getting--"  
  
"It's only awkward if you make it out to be,"  
  
Tom interrupted, having found his voice,  
  
"We don't have to end our relationship like that."  
  
"Look, I like you a lot, Tom,"  
  
Daria said, stuggling to keep her voice unstrained,  
  
"But like I said, we're growing apart and we're getting bored of each other."  
  
"Are we really?"  
  
Tom countered. She blinked, before narrowing her eyes in a 'what do you mean?' expression.  
  
"I've been thinking about it a lot, Daria, and I was thinking about how unhappy I've been since we promised to be just friends. How have you been?"  
  
"Pretty crappy myself, I admit. But this isn't going to work out."  
  
She said it in a voice that sounded and felt mechanical. Tom seemed prepared for this, however.  
  
"We have something together, Daria. There's something special between us. I didn't realise how much it meant to me until it went missing."  
  
"I do hope you realise how corny this conversation is getting,"  
  
Daria commented off-handedly. Tom smiled.  
  
"I can't help it. I can't really describe what's going on with words..."  
  
He reached over to touch her hand, but she retracted it from the table-top in a hurry, knocking against her plate. He looked surprisedly at her, so she tried to explain her action.  
  
"Look... We won't be seeing each other much, and..."  
  
Her voice sounded feeble even to her, so she wasn't surprised that Tom caught her tremble easily.  
  
"Daria, look at me."  
  
She did reluctantly.  
  
"I know you asked me why should we bother trying to keep our relationship afloat if it's going to be difficult, right? Like, why *work* to keep a relationship going... But Daria, I think we have something together. It's so special, I feel it's worth it."  
  
Daria still looked hesitant as she thought,  
  
'I don't know how much more soap-opera crap I can handle...'  
  
Tom pushed on.  
  
"I'm not asking you to date me right now. I'm just asking you to think about it... Because I know I'm not going to be able to meet someone like you again. There are not many people who also find the lack of humanity in many cases very comforting."  
  
Finally cracking a smile at the mention of no forcing onto her, Daria nodded slowly. It was true. Tom was... something different. Different to all the guys she'd ever met in her lifetime, by any rate.  
  
"I... guess I agree. We do have something together... something we don't really want to lose."  
  
'Blegh,'  
  
She thought, disgusted at her own choice of words, but she really meant it. He smiled happily.  
  
"Exactly. So, I was sort of wondering if you want to watch a movie after? As friends, of course-- 'cause like there's this horror movie on about--"  
  
"Actually, I've got to meet Jane."  
  
Daria interrupted,  
  
"We're hitting the stationary shops for some supplies."  
  
She stood up abruptly. He looked at her with a slightly forlorn look before quickly covering with his usual, confident grin.  
  
Exiting the restaurant, Daria walked two blocks away before reaching a payphone. She entered the booth, and dialed.  
  
"Lane's residence. If you're a telemarketer--"  
  
"Hey Jane,"  
  
Daria said into the phone with a sigh,  
  
"Can I come over?"  
  
  
  
  
  
Sipping her glass of water and grimacing as she felt her crackled lips stretch, Daria turned over on her bed to stare at her ceiling.   
  
Tom hadn't been pushing, Daria remembered. He genuinely liked her enough to bother, and she was secretly pleased about it. But she also felt pretty dampened, because things had started to really mix up in her head the very same night.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jane yawned, and switching off the television, stood up and stretched to her limit.  
  
"Maaaan, I'm tired."  
  
Daria got up, too, sighing.  
  
"Jane, we haven't even decided what's for dinner yet, and you decide to succumb to sleep?"  
  
"No, I'm not sleepy, I'm just sort of stiff. I'm tired of watching television. Let's go to McGrundy's."  
  
"And grab a burger or something on the way?"  
  
"Why not."  
  
Daria entered the pub with Jane forty minutes later, munching on sausage muffins. Mystik Spiral finished a rendition of 'Ow, My Face' before launching into their last song.   
  
"These days I've been thinking something crazy,"  
  
Jesse's and Trent's voices were laced with a tone of excitement as they sang. The crowd was a bit quieter as they noticed it was a song they hadn't heard before. The song's music was bright, sparked with the occasional crazy drumming fits from Max.  
  
"The crazy feeling's got an unseen source / But the feeling refuses to leave me / It won't leave even in the use of force / I don't know when or how this came to be / But when I find what started my insanity / I'll chase it like this crazy, crazy, CRAZY feeeeliiiiiiing!!"  
  
They promptly entered a reel of guitar ramming while Daria and Jane exchanged looks of mild surprise. Daria turned her eyes to the stage, where Trent was really slamming, and felt an involuntary smile tug at her mouth.  
  
"I haven't heard that one before,"  
  
She commented. Jane chomped into her muffin, her expression returning to nonchalant.  
  
"Actually, I think I heard 'em yowling about crazy while I was restocking the refrigerator last night. But then, I thought *I* was going crazy."  
  
The crowds went back to their usual level of chat, accepting the song with looks of appreciation as Jesse howled into the microphone a repeat.  
  
After the gig ended, Trent caught up to his sister outside.  
  
"You drove my car here without asking?"  
  
He looked at Jane pointedly, who cowered a little. Daria remembered; the last time Jane had taken his car, she had returned with two flat tyres. Jane wisely chose not to mention the memory.  
  
"Hey, it's not like you have a cell-phone,"  
  
She said defensively,  
  
"And we were bored. How else were we going to get to McGrundy's?"  
  
At the plural mention, Trent smiled at Daria.  
  
"Hey, Daria."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He turned back to Jane, and as they talked, Daria noticed she didn't feel nervous like the previous evening. Which was very, very good. Thought I'd rekindled something in me just then, thank God that's not the case, she thought in relief.  
  
"Don't worry, Trent,"  
  
Jane said lightly,  
  
"*I'll* drive."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yes. Unless you're calling shotgun, now, get into the back."  
  
"Why isn't Trent driving his own car?"  
  
Daria asked, feeling moronic for not listening to the conversation.  
  
"I drank a bit,"  
  
Trent explained while Jane hopped into the driver's seat. To Daria's surprise, Trent shifted himself into the back instead of next to Jane. She was going to let herself sit next to Jane, then thought about the fact that the car belonged to Trent. It'd feel weird for her to sit in front while Trent, who owned the car, sat at the back. Either that, or I just think too much, she thought dryly.  
  
Shaking her head, Daria crawled in next to Trent without much other thought, and shut the door. Jane took off with a jerky start, causing both Trent and Daria to yelp out 'Whoa!' and 'Yikes.' simultaneously.  
  
"You know, Jane, maybe I should drive,"  
  
Daria suggested as she felt her dinner lurch in her stomach.  
  
"Too late."  
  
Jane replied as the car entered the driveway. A minute of quiet passed but was punctured when a soft snore sounded from Trent's direction.  
  
"Now, if he'd been driving, we'd probably be getting very personal with God right about now."  
  
Daria remarked. Jane smirked.  
  
"Good thing I'm driving, huh."  
  
"Yeah. With you, chewed food gets very personal with the oesophagus."  
  
Daria saw a glimpse of Jane's crinkled nose.  
  
"Thanks for the image, Daria."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"Imagine. Bits of chewed muffin and meat, mushed up and thoroughly tossed with bile and saliva, bouncing about your mucus-lined stomach."  
  
It was Daria's turn to make a face.  
  
"Spare me."  
  
She deadpanned. Jane grinned as she mused,  
  
"You know, that makes quite an artistic expression, actually."  
  
"Regurgitation?"  
  
"No, the idea of graphic description. Maybe I should try drawing what I detail--"  
  
Both Daria's and Jane's eyes widened suddenly, and Jane slammed her boot down onto the breaks.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
[[A/N: Urrrgggghhhh. I am NOT accustomed to writing this sort of thing. But I really wanted to have a go at soap opera. Looks like I haven't succeeded in making it uncorny. Curse it all...  
  
It also looks like I wasn't able to go through the entire fic without using the word 'deadpan'. Damn it! Oh well. I couldn't do it without Trent singing a new song, too. Unfortunately for you people, this isn't the last of my awful ability to make up lyrics. I tried to make it sound stupid in the 'Ow, My Face!' sort of way, but at least that's funny. Crazy Feelings is just stupid. But I can't change it. If I do, I'll probably make it... worse. -_-;;  
  
This isn't much of a cliffhanger, is it? Didn't think so...  
  
Daria was going to say in the 'oesophagus line': "Yeah. With you, peristalsis plays hopscotch with the thin line of normal and reverse." Glad I didn't use it... though it came out sounding messier... *coughs* Anyhoot. Thank you so much for your time to write me such meaningful reviews. I will try to pay attention to what I'm being told... :) ]] 


	4. Jane I

Jane wouldn't eat. She'd sleep, but only grudgingly, and spent nearly all her time sitting next to her brother's bed.  
  
Sure, her family had come, but they'd left after seeing a glimpse of the youngest son in the family lying in his mass of tubes and sheets.  
  
She wasn't sure whether it was because they were being the pricks they always were, or because they couldn't stand staring at their son like that. But they deserve the pain, Jane thought bitterly as she looked at her brother's pale face, they deserve to see a peace on his face they never got to bring him.  
  
So far, Jane had managed to restrain herself from crying, but she could feel heat building behind her eyes again. She flopped her face onto the hospital bed beside her brother's arm, and tried to think of other things.  
  
She hadn't really imagined a life without her brother. Since they were little, they were always there for each other. She could remember their talks while he camped outside for six months, munching on sandwiches. She felt a prickling sensation behind her eyelids as she remembered his slouched lope, his morning habits, his hoarse singing and his ever so sweet concern for her.  
  
It suddenly hit her that if Trent didn't make it, she'd never see her brother ever again. The thought latched onto her mind, freezing her for a few seconds before she forced herself to calm down.  
  
When did I become so concerned about my sibling? Jane wondered to herself, concentrating on the gentle breathing of Trent. Perhaps she could pretend he was sleeping. That was it; he was only taking a nap, and he was going to wake up soon. But Jane couldn't shake off the image of him, lying in the white sheets and looking horribly cold.  
  
When *did* I become so concerned? She thought about the question, and the earliest memory she could come up with to help answer that question surfaced to her mind.  
  
  
  
  
The car screeched to a halt. They barely avoided crashing the car into the motorcycle before them.  
  
"Oops. I guess I shouldn't talk while I drive."  
  
Jane mumbled, feeling guilty that she had nearly crashed the car while her friend and brother were in it. Daria, in the meanwhile, was looking at Jane with a expression mixed with panic and nervousness. It was not any expression Jane had been expecting. She soon got an answer.  
  
"Uhm, Jane. Would you believe your brother bashed his head against the roof of the car, fell onto my shoulder, then slipped onto my lap and still somehow managed to stay soundly asleep?"  
  
Jane had to hide her laughter. Daria was not used to skinship at all, and the fact that Trent was lying in her lap was very obviously flustering her. She hadn't seen flustered Daria in quite a while.  
  
She wondered about that for a second. Why didn't Daria get flustered around Tom? She dismissed the thought to torture her friend.  
  
"Aa, don't worry. It's not like you've got 'problems' with him anymore."  
  
"That's true."  
  
Daria said as she struggled to push Trent back up. He was a dead weight and simply refused to unstick his cheek from her skirt. Giving up, Daria crossed her arms and tried to ignore the heavy warmth in her lap, his breath gentle on her knees.  
  
"Heh, getting a little uncomfy back there?"  
  
Jane said with a very annoying smirk. She loved to see Daria squirm. She definitely needs to loosen up in the touchy-feely department, Jane thought.  
  
"I thought you realised how bad it is to drive as you speak."  
  
Daria snapped.  
  
"Suit yourself."  
  
Silence ensued, and Daria found herself looking at Trent. He was breathing very softly and deeply, like the way he'd been sleeping back at the flea market. Her hands were getting uncomfortable, as they were stiffly set at her sides, so she hesitantly brought her hands out and settled them on his shoulder. He didn't even stir, and Daria found a smirk making its way to her lips.  
  
Jane glanced back to see Daria looking amusedly at Trent quietly snoring away, her hands settled on his shoulder. Jane was surprised. She'd expected Daria to stay as stiff as a board the entire ride through.  
  
Eventually bored of the silence, Daria absent-mindedly fiddled with the silver hoops in his ears, only slightly surprised to hear him mumble something before falling back to sleep. She continued to poke about the earrings, unaware of Jane catching a glimpse and raising an eyebrow.  
  
Jane felt somewhat uncomfortable all of a sudden. There was something strange about the way Daria was toying with her brother's earrings. It seemed so... personal? Sure, Daria and Trent's friendship dated way back, but still... It was usually a big pain in the butt to say there were problems just because Daria was a girl and Trent was a guy, but this was different.  
  
It was different because *Daria* was different. She was the type to be able to stay friends with guys, but she sure as heck couldn't get 'touchy-feely', as Jane had put it, with a guy as a friend. What really disturbed Jane was that she knew Daria was having problems getting over Tom. Jane knew for a fact that Daria's crush on Trent had ended quite a while ago, and as much as she was enjoying seeing her friend get flustered, she wasn't about to have Daria have split feelings for two different boys.  
  
Not that she minded if Daria liked Trent, so long as she ended her relationship with Tom, first. Jane felt something twist in her lower stomach, to her surprise. She didn't mind Daria with Trent, at all...   
  
Or did she? Why else did she feel so strange - in a bad way?  
  
"The silence is killing me."  
  
Jane broke the quiet, suddenly feeling the urge to stop Daria touching her brother's ear.  
  
"So long as you don't crash the car."  
  
Daria replied, oblivious to Jane's disturbed expression,  
  
"Hey, Jane - is it just a coincidence that you and Trent have three hoops in each ear?"  
  
A very unfamiliar feeling sifted into Jane, and she shifted in her seat quite uncomfortably. She didn't know why, but she didn't want to explain it to Daria. It wasn't like the reason itself was so bad she couldn't tell. There was something in her that made her feel weird... like she'd be selling out her relationship with Trent. What made her think that? It was Daria she was thinking about here...  
  
Then she remembered Daria waiting for her to respond, so she said,  
  
"Went to Axl's and did it for fun."  
  
"Whoa. Did I poke a spot I wasn't meant to?"  
  
Daria asked, sounding surprised. Realising she had sounded way too short and choppy, Jane quickly amended,  
  
"Nah. It's just not much of a big deal."  
  
Trent mumbled something that Daria didn't quite catch again, and turned slightly over. Daria's hands took flight and she looked perfectly expressionless as Trent sat up, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"My head hurts."  
  
He mumbled.  
  
"You *did* smash it through the roof of the car."  
  
Daria said, shifting away from Trent. Still half-asleep, Trent looked up at the car roof and gave a confused expression.  
  
"Huh? The roof's fine..."  
  
"Yoo hoo, back to Earth, Trent,"  
  
Jane called from the driver's seat. He blinked, and seemed to slide back to the reality plane.  
  
"Oh, right. Sorry."  
  
Daria gave a small chuckle, and Trent looked at her for a moment.  
  
"Was I in your lap?"  
  
"Yeah. Your head's about as light as an elephant, speaking of which."  
  
"Sorry, Daria."  
  
"I was only kidding."  
  
They exchanged smiles, and Jane was unpleasantly surprised to find *herself* squirming.  
  
"You know, there's a parody marathon tonight?"  
  
Jane said, and was disturbed to feel *relieved* when Daria was distracted from Trent. What was the weird feeling she was getting? Nothing's going on, she chided herself, Daria's still pining over Tom. She wouldn't *think* of 'two-timing' with her feelings... and didn't you say you didn't mind Daria liking Trent?  
  
But Jane still felt a flicker of unrecognisable worry. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she had heard Trent's mumbles. Both times, he had said in a very un-Trent-like voice, 'feels nice'.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Looking at Trent's face, she wondered. Did he know how she had felt? Did he have any idea how Daria had felt? Or... how Daria was feeling now? Truth be told, not even Jane felt she could fathom the cynical mind of her best friend. She froze when she saw that her brother did not seem to be breathing. Then she let her breath out when he took in another deep breath of oxygen.  
  
Jane watched her brother's chest gently rise and fall. It was much too peaceful for her liking. She could still remember Daria staring at her sleeping brother back at the flea market, but back then, you could tell he was sleeping healthily. Watching a pale face barely manage to suck in a shuddering breath of oxygen through a mask was completely different.  
  
Clutching her brothers' fingers in a hand, Jane continued to watch her brother sleep. Something hurt inside her throat, and she couldn't get it down no matter how many times she swallowed.  
  
Flopping her head back to her arms, Jane forced herself to think. When had she realised just *how* attached she was to her brother? Probably the very same night Daria was poking his ear about, Jane thought, and after letting darkness envelope her vision, she invaded it with vivid memory.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jane looked over her shoulder, her eyebrows rising to see Daria lying on her bed and hanging her head over the edge of her mattress and gazing at the ceiling.  
  
"Your book was that boring, huh?"  
  
She said, dabbing some moss-green onto her painting with the tips of her fingers.  
  
"Mmm hmmm."  
  
The non-commitical answer made Jane's brows rise higher.  
  
"Wanna change into your jammies yet?"  
  
"Mmm hmmm."  
  
Shaping out a curve of orange with her thumbnail, Jane asked in a normal voice,  
  
"Does jumping off the moon with a bungee cord wearing a purple cow costume sound good to you?"  
  
"Mmm. Put marshmallows in mine."  
  
"DARIA!!"  
  
"Huh? What?"  
  
The brunette blinked as she turned her eyes towards her friend, who was using a sponge soaked in chocolate-brown paint onto her canvas.  
  
"Welcome back to Lawndale."  
  
"Ugh. We do not speak of such things."  
  
Daria muttered. Seeing her friend now back to her world, Jane set down her sponge and starting to intricately mix together dollops of white paint into black and asked,  
  
"Okay, what's chewing you?"  
  
"Nothing. I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"And I'm Leonardo DiCaprio. Work with me here, Daria."  
  
"Well..."  
  
Daria pulled herself up and crossed her legs over Jane's bed. Seeing how Daria was finally ready to talk, Jane turned around from her painting, wiping her hands on a wet towel as she did so.  
  
"...It's like this. Tom wants us to get back together again."  
  
Jane's eyes brightened.  
  
"That's good, isn't it?"  
  
Daria's eyes narrowed.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Come off it, Daria. I know you've been missing him terribly since you broke up."  
  
"That's what's *supposed* to happen."  
  
Daria said sullenly. Jane was quiet, hesitant as she wasn't sure how to phrase what she wanted to say, but decided to give it a shot.  
  
"Daria, don't take this the wrong way, okay? We're outcasts, and we're anti-social. The only difference is that I latch onto guys more than you do. Now, take a good look at Tom. He's as cynical and witty as you, and shares a lot of opinions with you. He appreciates you for who you are, he's patient, and truly likes you. Plus, he's rich, so you can trust that anything he wants from you isn't materialistic. What he wants is to be your boyfriend."  
  
Jane hid her pleased feelings to see Daria looking surprised, and continued,  
  
"You don't find a guy like that everyday, Daria. As outcasts, we tend to be very dependable on the people we *are* socially associated with. So Tom is incredibly special to you."  
  
Daria looked thoughtful for a moment, but she grew depressed.  
  
"But it's going to be so hard to see each other once he goes. We're going to have to work harder to keep our relationship going. Besides... what am *I* to *him*?"  
  
Jane laughed, causing Daria to stare at her.  
  
"You should go up to the mirror and start saying, 'I love myself, because I am who I am, and that's me'. Seriously, Daria - he loves your wits and smarts, plus you're a really nice person once people get to know you. Of course, once they *really* know you, they know the *real* truth... I'm only kidding! Anyway, where was I? Right.  
  
"There are some things worth chasing after, and things that are actually worth working for. Think about how many fights *we've* been through. We've worked out the kinks everytime they've risen, right?"  
  
"Yeah, but that's because our friendship isn't something you can find everyda--"  
  
Daria stopped, her eyes widening. Jane grinned.  
  
"Take a long think about it, Morgendorffer,"  
  
She drawled, and added the finishing touches to her painting with a toothbrush, she stepped aside to observe it from an angle.  
  
"Whatcha think?"  
  
She asked, and Daria looked at the picture of herself, running a hand through her hair as she looked to her side, the other hand stuck in her jacket pocket as she walked down a leaf-littered lane. A flurry of finger-shaped leaves were caught in wind and rushing past her.  
  
"Nice."  
  
She said vaguely. Jane was surprised to see a tint of pink at her cheeks. Was she embarrassed or... flattered? Jane let out a dramatic sigh.  
  
"That's just about the worst word you can give to any artist."  
  
She complained. Daria lips quirked into a smile at Jane's words as she looked at the picture. Seeing that made Jane realise what could truly enhance the image.  
  
"Hang on,"  
  
She said, and bending over her picture, applied a small dab of peach-pink at Daria's cheek with her sponge, and with her pinkie, added just the slightest of smiles to Daria's lips. The real Daria stood up.  
  
"I'm going to go brush my teeth."  
  
"Go on without me,"  
  
Jane said, occupied with giving the leaves texture. Just before Daria left the room with her toothbrush, however, Jane asked,  
  
"Know what you're going to do about it yet?"  
  
Daria paused.  
  
"...I think so."  
  
Jane caught Daria's smile of gratitude before she left, and Jane found herself smiling as she completed the border to the image. Leaving the easel out to let the paint dry, Jane sauntered off to join Daria in cleansing off.  
  
By the time they returned to her room, however, the picture was gone.  
  
"I am so sure I left it out here to let the paint dry..."  
  
Jane muttered, looking around for her masterpiece, and Daria tucked herself into her sleeping bag. Sighing, Jane started to walk out of her room.  
  
"What's up?"  
  
Daria asked.  
  
"I'm bidding my brother good night. Wanna come with me?"  
  
Setting her glasses next to her and shaking her head, Daria slid into her sleeping bag. Jane switched off the light for Daria, but just before she left, Daria muttered,  
  
"You can say it for me."  
  
Jane nodded slightly, and strolled downstairs. On the way to the basement, she noticed the light on in the kitchen. She discovered her brother at the kitchen table, studying her picture of Daria intently.  
  
He didn't even hear her come in. She stood there, leaning against the door frame patiently, but he continued to study the picture. His eyes looked mesmerised with the image, completely lost in thought.  
  
Jane felt quite weirded out for a moment. Like she was intruding in something she shouldn't be. What was he doing, staring at her picture of Daria anyhow? Annoyed at herself for feeling annoyed, Jane decided to speak up.  
  
"Hey Trent."  
  
He practically jumped, startled out of his wits, but he managed to calm down.  
  
"Uh, hi Janey. Nice picture."  
  
Jane smiled, but felt something in her feel bad. Again?! She thought to herself irritatedly.  
  
"Thanks. You snatched it off while it was drying?"  
  
"Wanted to take a better look at it,"  
  
Trent said. Jane felt strangely bad. Why did she not like the way Trent was looking at the picture? Had this been back when she had thought it was cute of Daria to like her brother, she would have thought it was a sweet notion. But now that Daria was 'experienced in that field', she felt strangely alarmed.  
  
Alarmed?  
  
"Nice picture,"  
  
He repeated, and stood up, tucking the painting under his arm.  
  
"Where're you taking it?"  
  
Jane asked, for some reason feeling panicked as Trent carried it off with him.  
  
"I like the smile and the blush. It's inspiring me of a song."  
  
He said, and he gave a little wave.  
  
"'Night."  
  
"Uh... yeah. Good night."  
  
Just as he started to leave, however, Jane blurted out,  
  
"Do you know who it is?"  
  
Trent gave the picture a look before saying with a questioning lilt,  
  
"Daria?"  
  
"Yeah. Does it look like her?"  
  
Smirking, her brother walked off, throwing his words over his shoulder.  
  
"Not a bit. That's why I guessed 'Daria'."  
  
Blinking, Jane stood in her kitchen before she finally made herself pour out some water into a glass. Drinking it, she thought,  
  
'Dang influence.'  
  
Something was gnawing at her - badly. She didn't know what it was, but for some reason, she had had a very bad urge to tear the painting out of her brother's hands a few seconds ago. What was up with that?  
  
It's just a song thing, she told herself, he said so himself. Why am I making up weird, pointless excuses? Grumbling, Jane downed the glass before retreating upstairs.  
  
As she crawled into her bed, Jane remembered something which she easily dismissed.  
  
She'd forgotten to tell Trent good night for Daria.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N:: *laughs* Yes, those asterisks are supposed to show emphasis. I can't be bothered with html at this point to insert bold or italics. I'll do it some time in future. By any rate, the summary for this story sucks. Can anyone think of a better one? Anyhoot, thanks for bearing with my really blegh way of writing, and for leaving some memorable reviews in my email. ^^ (And if you continue to, at the very least I'll realise what sucks and fix it.)  
  
rantI'm sick of a lot of things in Daria fanfiction. Either Trent's a sleepy jerk or Tom's a stuck up bastard. People either hate Trent or hate Tom. The OOC stuff I've seen are ridiculous. I really hope to break some of the worst cliches I've seen, although I wouldn't be surprised if I got sucked into writing one since just about every trick in the book has been used between Trent and Daria.  
  
Would it really be a twist with Daria/Tom at the end? I've read plenty of fics with that ending, and all had Trent acting like an idiot. To balance that out, there are about a million fics with Daria/Trent that have Tom acting totally OOC. I don't think it'd be 'a twist' - it really depends on how many fics you've read and what they've contained. So all I ask is that if you read this fic, try to keep out all the other fics you've read. Otherwise, you'll compare. And that would be very bad. :P /rant 


	5. Trent I

Okay, this is just plain weird.  
  
I'm staring at blackness, I'm in blackness, and I have no body. I could be a pair of floating eyeballs for all I know. Floating eyeballs? Hmm... gives me an idea for song lyrics... But I can't move my arms to grab a notepad, because I have no body here. Man, this sucks.  
  
Hello, darkness. I am Trent Lane. Where the hell am I?  
  
...Okay, that's creepy. Am I in hell?  
  
I can't really think of how I got into a place like this. I mean, one minute I'm in a place full of light and colour and people, and next I'm suddenly plunged into this darkness. No immediate memory pangs... yet.  
  
Whoa, I think I can feel something happening now, actually-- whoa! Colour! Corridor with lots of doors. Too many doors, but at least there's floor beneath me now. And I've got a body! Hurrah!  
  
...What the hell am I wearing? Weird white shirt. Whatever.  
  
Take a step, Lane. Good. Now take another.  
  
Is this a dream? Funny. I don't get a lot of dreams I can walk around in after telling myself to. Plus, the floor feels pretty solid, and the colours aren't blurred, nor are the lines edgeless. Everything looks real enough. Hmmm. Edgeless... oh yeah, no notepad.  
  
Only something deep inside is telling me that this isn't reality. I mean, how can I just land up from darkness into a place like this? There's something behind these doors that will help answer me, but I'm not entirely sure what I'm even asking. Besides the obvious 'Where am I?' bit.  
  
None of the doors look interesting. They're all dull and boring. Oh, actually, I can see one that's really different. It's covered with vibrant pulsings of purple. Purple for passion, was it? Hmm... I don't know if this situation can get any weirder, now that I've discovered these little plague things with these tiny inscriptions next to each door.  
  
For this purple one, it says, 'When Mystik Spiral Formed'.  
  
Okay, let me take a guess at where I am. I'm in my own head and I'm travelling down memory lane. Literally. With no notebook! Man, that sucks. But it's weird enough, I guess, to be travelling in my own conciousness. Unconciousness. Whatever.  
  
I'm not going into that room. I *know* how the Spiral was formed, and I don't need a recap on that... Brr... Okay, onto the next doors. Boring. Boring. Boring. Bo--... Oooh, here's one coloured in yellow. Nice, sunshine yellow. And the plaque says...?  
  
'Janey'. This must be when I stuck the nickname onto Janey - that's when I started to really love her as a sister, if I can recall properly. That was sometime while I was camped out. I don't want to check that one - it'll be overflowing with sap, and I don't think I need that now... I sort of want to know what I'm doing in my head instead of being 'out there'.  
  
Hey, it's better to believe that and stick to it than think it's all a kooky dream. Uh, who am I talking to, exactly? Myself. That's right. Ugh... whatever. Just keep talking and walking, Trent, and you'll eventually end up somewhere... talking in your head while in your head? Whatever...  
  
Huh. This door's grey. That's kind of weird. The plaque says, 'Thwack'. Thwack? The hell? Okay, this just might be worth opening for the sake of curiousity. No rush, really. Yow! The handle is actually cold! That's so weird. Am't I in my head? Oh well... just open it, Trent, and see what happens...  
  
Pushing the metal down now... the grey edge crawls away from in a long and loud creak, and-- whoa, more blackness.  
  
...Something tells me, I've got to take a step into the dark to see this memory. Well, here goes...  
  
  
  
  
  
The air-conditioner blasted out cold air, and Trent entered the kitchen humming Icebox Woman. Pulling out the second to last of sodas in the refrigerator, he settled down in a chair by the table, feeling refreshed under the air-con.  
  
Sipping his can of soda, Trent greeted Jane with a wave as she entered the house.  
  
"Back from running so soon?"  
  
He asked.  
  
"Actually, I didn't go running,"  
  
Jane said casually, taking out another can of soda from the refrigerator. The she scowled.  
  
"Now I've emptied the thing. Damn."  
  
"Then where'd you go?"  
  
Trent asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Ate a burger with a friend,"  
  
She said quickly. Trent raised an eyebrow. Another date? But she just broke up with Calvin last month, he thought, his annoyance evident on his face. Jane noticed, and laughed.  
  
"Oh, no, Trent, this is different. It's a girl."  
  
His eyes widened considerably, his jaw dropping open as he set out his drink.  
  
"A g-girl?! Y-you mean--"  
  
He was abruptly cut off by Jane's outburst of laughter.  
  
"No, no, I've got a *friend*, Trent. Just a friend."  
  
He looked relieved for a few seconds, relaxing, before raising an eyebrow again in question.  
  
"You've got a friend now?"  
  
"Yup. She recognises that the depth of Lawndale is about three inches. Perfect partner in crime."  
  
Trent was surprised. Jane sounded genuinely pleased about her friend. In his opinion, Janey was a great person, but she didn't really need friends... but on the other hand, Janey probably had girl-talk she'd never talk to him about...  
  
"This is a good thing, right?"  
  
Trent asked out loud, both to Jane and himself. Jane grinned.  
  
"I think you'll like her. She's a cool girl. Her sarcasm hits the roof, though."  
  
"Like you're not cynical."  
  
Trent retorted, returning to his drink.  
  
"You haven't met Daria Morgendorffer,"  
  
Was Jane's reply as she headed off towards the living room, leaving Trent to think.  
  
This was the first time Jane actually sounded serious about having a friend since fourth grade. He'd always thought that he'd be the only person for his sister; the supportive brother *and* close friend. And now she had another friend...  
  
Hey, stop being selfish, he told himself.  
  
Hmm... He only hoped 'Daria' was truly worthy of being Janey's friend.  
  
As he sauntered out to the living room to join his sister, he was met with the sight of her rolling her eyes as she held a phone to her ear.  
  
"Yeah, but wouldn't Ms. Defoe sort of notice the resemblance between his hair and ice-cream?"  
  
Trent suddenly realised that he had no freaking idea what Jane was talking about... but the person on the other end, most likely 'Daria', did. And they were relating to each in mutual conversation.  
  
The realisation that Jane wouldn't always only be his thwacked Trent harder than any guitar would have over the head.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Yow. That one hurt.  
  
Was that when I first heard about Daria? And now my bum hurts since I've just been sent skidding across the floor.  
  
Okay, so this *is* my own memory lane, and I really am walking around in my sub-conciousness. Unconciousness. Whatever.  
  
What am I doing here?  
  
Hmm... oh, I get it now. That's the whole point - that I have no idea what I'm doing here. Because I have no recollection of any memories immediately before I woke up in blackness. Which would mean... I've been sent to my memory lane to discover what I'm doing here.  
  
I've just realised what a horrible pun it is... 'memory lane', 'Trent Lane'... I guess I could always say it if I wanted to make Daria or Jane groan. Heh.  
  
That is, if I ever get out of my own head. Whatever I'm doing here.  
  
Okay, walk on, Lane. Stop thinking too much.  
  
...Though, I just *have* to think about why the hell I'm hurting at the ass even though I'm in my own head...  
  
Hmm. Another different door that isn't wooden and dull. This one's sort of a pale jade-green. The plaque next to it says 'Inspiration'. Well, I already know what this door leads to.  
  
The only time I've *really* been lifted by inspiration was the time Daria talked to me about my life. I think that was when the Tank broke down on the way to an Alternapalooza. At any rate, Daria really made me look at my life. I'd been going through some pretty harsh self-reality, and I was confirming what a loser I was being by asking Daria.  
  
She's always seemed like a quiet, introspective person who's a good analyst. Which was why I asked her in the first place. But when I asked her, I didn't get the agreement I'd expected. I mean, sure, she agreed with what I said about my life, but she gave a positive approach to it. Plus she actually sounded like she meant it. She wasn't being corny or false in trying to cheer me up. She was serious.  
  
She didn't seem like a high-schooler. She was like a very wise person. And from then on, I'd continued through Mystik Spiral, and I truly appreciated the fact I was able to live the way I was currently. Yeah, it's all coming back now. Daria became the coolest high-schooler I'd ever known from that day on.  
  
Yeah, it's definitely that memory this door probably jogs up. I'll just continue past it... I won't be missing anything. Because it's either that memory, or it's the day Janey showed me her sculpture of peanut-butter and cheese sandwiches....  
  
Oh, I nearly passed a new door. It's a brown door, so I nearly couldn't tell it apart from all the other pine-looking ones, but now that I'm looking closely at it... it's a sort of khaki colour. It's titled, 'Acceptance'.  
  
Acceptance? Now *this* I don't know. Time to open another door.  
  
Heh. Maybe this time, I won't fall on my ass on the way out.  
  
  
  
  
Hearing the door shut with a slam, Trent was startled out of his nap. He looked up at Jane walking briskly up the stairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.  
  
"Janey? What's up?"  
  
He asked, his voice a tad sleepier than it should have considering the seriously gloomy expression on her face.  
  
"Nothing. Uh, I'm not feeling really good, so, uhm, if someone asks for me, I'm running."  
  
"So, uh, uhm, okay."  
  
Trent replied, earning a scowl from his little sister before she trudged away to her room and out of sight. He rolled over and sat up on the sofa, wondering what was up with his sister now.  
  
She hadn't been hanging around Daria ever since Tommy had died, or was it the other way round? Either way, Jane was getting seriously depressed and silent about it. He wanted to ask her about it, but he wasn't sure he was the person for it. But was Daria?  
  
He knew Daria was a cool kid, but she did seem the type to have a negative outlook towards Tommy's death. If she had known him, and boy, had Trent known Tommy Sherman - then Daria probably knew that Tommy Sherman was a jerk.  
  
Then did she think he *deserved* to die? But no one *deserves* anything, Trent thought, it isn't right to pass that sort of judgement to someone. Maybe that's why Janey's all depressed - because Daria doesn't give a damn about it when she does. Trent sighed. Janey had always been sort of sensitive to sudden happenings.  
  
Damn, Trent thought, does this mean Daria isn't qualified for Janey? That can't be right... It suddenly occurred to Trent that maybe he was still trying to worm out reasons or excuses for Janey to still be only his special person. A complex? He shuddered at the idea. Guess I don't see Daria as full-fledged friend material, Trent mused. Well, for Janey, by any rate...  
  
The doorbell rang, shaking him out of thought. Trent wondered if he should wait for Jane to get the door, when he remembered he wasn't in the basement (so he couldn't pretend he hadn't heard the bell ring) and that Janey was supposed to be running. Sighing, Trent eased himself up and sauntered to the door. He wasn't really thinking who it could be, so when it opened, he was surprised to see the subject of his thoughts.  
  
"Hey, Daria,"  
  
He greeted. He noted that she looked more tired than usual, her eyes a little more melancholy. Then he remembered who the girl was here to meet, and quickly added,  
  
"Janey went running."  
  
The reaction to this was immediate; Trent could see her totally deflating at his words. Her eyes dropping from his and her shoulders slumping, Daria mumbled,  
  
"Oh. Well, I'll see her another time."  
  
She turned on her heel and started to walk away. An alarm bell rang through Trent's head loudly. This is not a good time to turn away this girl, the warning screamed. She looks in desperate need of talking. Do something about it, quick.  
  
The first thing that popped to Trent's tongue was not about Janey, though. It was the first and only thing he could think of that could possibly be separating Daria from Janey.  
  
"Scary about Tommy Sherman."  
  
Hearing this, Daria stopped walking away and instead stepped back to face him again, her eyebrows raised.  
  
"Yeah. You knew him, right?"  
  
Trent realised he could almost 'test' Daria here. To see what she thought about Tommy Sherman's death. To see how it affected her. How her thoughts had affected Janey.  
  
"We had a couple classes together."  
  
He started, when he remembered that sounded as though he had actually *seen* Tommy more than he actually had. He continued on, amending the intention in his words.  
  
"I mean, we didn't see him much. You know, he didn't show up too often."  
  
Daria looked downright nonchalant as she remarked,  
  
"Not like you, huh."  
  
Trent had to laugh at that one, though it dried up his throat and made him cough. Okay, she caught me there, he thought with a smile.  
  
"I guess I might have missed a few classes, now that you mention it."  
  
Realising what he was admitting so casually, Trent steered the subject back to course.  
  
"Weird thing, freak accident."  
  
He waited to see Daria's reaction to that. She looked thoughtful, and for a moment Trent expected her to come up with a witty wisecrack to gloss over the situation. Then she looked up at him and into his eyes searchingly, an eyebrow arched in question.  
  
"Would you say it really makes you think?"  
  
She asked, her voice slow and deliberate. Her eyes continued to search his. Trent racked his brains, and realised, despite knowing the dude, he didn't really care. He felt bad for Tommy, sure, but to be completely honest, he hadn't been affected by it all. What was there to think about? Other than the fact that everyone dies in the end. Seeing that Daria looked as though his answer really mattered, Trent figured he might as well give an honest one.  
  
"No."  
  
Her eyes widened for a split second in surprise before slipping back to normal. Trent noticed she looked more comfortably relaxed as she said in a quite sincere voice,  
  
"Thank you for that."  
  
Trent was confused.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Starting to turn around, Daria said in the same sincereity,  
  
"See ya."  
  
It suddenly hit Trent was had just happened.  
  
Daria knew something deep down about the whole Tommy Sherman thing that Janey didn't - probably something Janey didn't want to know herself. But Daria obviously didn't like what she felt. Yet she hadn't been able to ask Janey about it because Janey hadn't wanted to know about it at all. Then again, Janey probably did and should want to know, but was avoiding it for as long as she could. And Daria had been so confused about Janey she had come over, and seeing how she wouldn't be able to get confirmation with Janey, had just confirmed her view with Janey's brother. And having accepted the whole idea, Daria was ready to leave - and prepared to face her friend another time.  
  
Whoa, Trent thought as his mind spun, Daria's really not like any high-schooler. Acceptance is very difficult to do on your own, and Trent knew that Daria must have been going through hell trying to figure it all out. Janey was probably going through the same. All because of the thought of accepting Tommy Sherman's death - not just him in particular but in general; as a whole subject.  
  
Crap, Trent realised, these two need to see each other - real quick. He called out before the girl could turn 180.  
  
"Hey Daria."  
  
She paused in her tracks.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You know... it was a while ago that Janey went running."  
  
Trent said, hoping he sounded somewhat convincing, then ploughed on hesitantly,  
  
"Maybe she came back and I didn't hear her or something."  
  
Stepping back, Trent let Daria in as he suggested,  
  
"Anyway, why don't you check her room. She might be there."  
  
Looking uncertain of herself, Daria walked uptil the bottom of the staircase. She looked dubiously at the stairs before saying,  
  
"I'll yell up the stairs."  
  
"No,"  
  
Trent hastily cut in before she could, certain that even if Janey did hear Daria over the music of hers, she wouldn't reply. Because in that case, he'd have to drag the two together to *force* them to talk, and he didn't believe that forcing ever did any good.  
  
"Uhmm, sometimes,"  
  
He said, his eyes darting about uncertainly as he spoke,  
  
"She's got some music on and she can't hear really well. Why don't you just head on up?"  
  
Daria's eyebrows shot up, and she cast a now surprised look at the steps. Then, looking more determined, she walked up the stairs steadily. As Trent watched her go, he smiled in relief. He waited below for a few minutes, and seeing no Daria or Jane rushing down the stairs, he retired back to his couch to nap. Stretching out lazily, Trent felt more content than he usually did.  
  
It was reassuring to know that Janey had actually chosen a worthwhile friend who was not only smart and mature, but also sort of... wise. Yawning, Trent lay down to have a snooze. Before he drifted off, he realised he felt at ease with Daria now.  
  
He had completely accepted her as Janey's friend.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N:: Happy New Year, folks! ^_^* 


End file.
